


Five Hanukkahs that Changed the Course of Clint's Life...

by VictorianBreaker



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Feelstide 2012, Gen, Hanukkah, Happy Ending, Hebrew, Hulk is adorable, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), What am I doing, probably bad Hebrew, sad childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorianBreaker/pseuds/VictorianBreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...And the one that let him know he was on the right path.</p><p>Written for Feelstide 2012</p><p>Prompt: 3 - Hanukkah!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Hanukkahs that Changed the Course of Clint's Life...

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, asher qiddeshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu lehadliq ner shel Hanukkah. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, she'asa nisim la'avoteinu ba'yamim ha'heim ba'z'man ha'ze. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, she'hehiyanu v'kiy'manu v'higi'anu la z'man ha ze.”: "Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah light[s]. Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the universe, Who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time... Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the universe, Who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season."
> 
> Savta: Grandmother in Hebrew
> 
> I don’t own anything Marvel!
> 
> Happy Hanukkah, everyone. Or Merry Christmas. Or Joyous Kawanza. Or whatever you happen to celebrate, I just hope it’s a happy one!

1978 – Age 7

Clint sat forlornly outside of the circus tent, shivering in the Iowa winter cold, feet dangling above the ground from where he sat on a cargo crate. Barney stood next to him, vibrating with anger. Music floated out of the tent, mingling with gentle laughter. “Christmas Eve and we have to be out here,” Barney kicked a rock furiously.

Clint’s eyes followed the rock as it skittered away into the darkness and hugged his arms tighter around himself. “I miss mom and dad,” he whispered.

“Why? They’re dead, Clint, don’t be a baby. You’re almost seven now.” Barney stood up and turned to his brother, “Come on. Let’s finish cleaning out the pony stalls so we can just go to sleep and try and forget it’s Christmas.”

Barney stomped away and Clint scurried down from the crate to follow.

“Boys?” A voice with a soft accent wafted out from a small trailer, freezing them in their tracks.

It was Ada. The fortune teller with the numbers on her wrist. Clint didn’t know what the numbers meant, but he was afraid to ask her; she was always tugging her sleeve down to cover them.

“Where are you going so late in this cold?”

“Mr. Carson told us to clean out the stable before bed,” Barney explained. Clint looked up at him, surprised. Barney hadn’t been so gently spoken to anyone since they ended up at the orphanage when their parents died. He supposed his brother had somewhat of a soft spot for the woman who had been nothing but kind since they had shown up at the circus ten months before.

“Quickly then, and then come back. I have a surprise for you both. Tonight is a special night.”

Clint grinned up at his big brother and raced off to the temporary building that served as a stable; Barney followed close behind, both excited for the surprise. 

The work took only half the time with both boys so excited, and they raced back to Ada’s tiny trailer, where she let them in with a musical laugh. Clint couldn’t help but smile widely at her when he heard that laugh. It reminded him of his mother.

They sat at the table that was placed under a window that held an ornate candle holder, the middle candle the only one lit.

“Now, boys, do you know what tonight is?” She asked with an indulgent smile as she placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of each child.

“Christmas Eve!” Barney blurted out, bouncing on the chair, his mug dancing dangerously on the tiny table in front of him.

Clint only watched quietly, smiling as he wrapped his frozen hands around the warm ceramic.

She laughed again and set down a small wooden top between the two of them, “Yes, my dear. But it is also the first night of Hanukkah. Do you know about Hanukkah?”

At their negative response, she pulled the middle candle out of the holder and lit the candle on the far right side, whispering foreign words softly. 

“Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, asher qiddeshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu lehadliq ner shel Hanukkah. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, she'asa nisim la'avoteinu ba'yamim ha'heim ba'z'man ha'ze. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, she'hehiyanu v'kiy'manu v'higi'anu la z'man ha ze.”

Her eyes seemed to well with tears as she grew quiet, eyes locked on the dancing flame.

“You see, boys, long ago there was a king…”

****

1979 – Age 8

“Happy Hanukkah, boys. I got you each a little something. It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

Barney and Clint looked at each other with a smile and turned back to Ava with eager faces.

She handed them both large wrapped gifts and sat back as the boys tore into the gifts.

“Cool!” Barney shouted, “Batman!”

“The nice man at the store assured me that’s what all the boys wanted this year.”

Barney smiled brightly at her, “Thank you, savta!”

“What do you think of your gift, Clint?” She sounded somewhat unsure. Clint stared down at the equipment laid out on his lap quietly. “Clint?”

“A bow?” He looked up, “You think…”

“I think you’d be great at it, Clint. And I’ve already asked and both Trickshot and Swordsman are willing to teach you some things.”

He rushed up to throw himself into her arms, “Thank you, savta. This is so cool! I’m going to go out right after the candles and ask if Trickshot will help me and I have to work on how to stand right away so I don’t miss and-“

She laughed, “Yes, yes, in good time. Right now, let’s eat our potato latkes and say the blessings. You can talk to them tomorrow.” She took his hand and led him to the kitchen, listening patiently as he excitedly explained all the amazing tricks he was going to learn.

Neither of them noticed Barney clutching his Batman figure tightly, anger radiating off of him as his eyes followed them.

****

1987 – Age 16

“Carson, I figured out that new- Jacques?”

Swordsman straightened abruptly from where he was crouched next to the circus office’s safe.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Ah, Clint. I was just… going through some papers for Carson.”

“That’s money,” Clint murmured, confused, “are you stealing money from-?”

“Oh, this is just… my fee, you could say.”

“I think I should leave…” the archer began backing away.

“Wait, Clint. You’ve learned a lot these past years. Come with me. You can get away from this life. Become my partner. What do you say, my boy?”

“What? No, I,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, “No. I won’t be a thief.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Swordsman pulled out his sword, fingering the handle in contemplation. “You were always the perfect student and you would’ve made a good partner, Clint. But, now, you’re just in my way!”

****

Clint woke up on the hard dirt floor of the main tent, staring up at the high wire.

“Clint!” Ava sounded so far away. “Clint, no!” Her face swam into focus above him, “Oh, Clint, say something!”

“Wh-?”

“I’ve called for help,” he could hear Trickshot somewhere behind him.

“You fell off the high wire. Can you move your fingers, dear?” He could feel Ava clutching his hand tightly and he struggled to clinch it in return.

“Sw,” he huffed out, “Swor-“

“He ran off. But don’t worry, Clint, we’re getting you help,” Trickshot knelt down on his other side, “just stay awake, alright? Just stay awake…”

****

1988 – 17 years old

“Savta! Savta, I found the best gift ever for you! I can’t wait for you to open it!” Clint burst into her trailer, full of boyish excitement, shaking the rain out of his hair. “Savta?”

“Hello, Clinton.” Barney stood in the darkened kitchen, gently turning a potato latke in the frying pan.

“Barney? Where have you been!? We haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“I’ve been out with friends,” he said defensively, slamming the pan harshly down on the small stovetop, hot oil splashing over the kitchen equipment.

“Have you seen savta? It’s the first night-“

“I know what day it is, Clint. In fact, it’s why I came back. Ten years you’ve been her favorite. Ten years we’ve been celebrating with her and she’s always,” he sputtered to a stop and turned to face his brother, his eyes narrowed in rage, and Clint noticed the blood on his clothing as lightning flashed outside, “She’s always… always treated you like her real grandson! She’s always treated me like I’m some neighbor boy!”

“What? Barney, are you hurt?” Clint took one worried step towards his brother before the glint of a knife stopped him. “Barney, what did you do?”

Barney smiled and pointed to the floor. Ava.

“Oh, god.”

“Now, it’s your turn.”

“No!” Clint pulled a throwing knife out of his boot and threw it at the man who used to be his brother, knocking the pan of latkes off the stove, oil spilling into the open burner, flames beginning to lick up the wall. He rushed out the door and into the stormy night, Barney storming out of the trailer after him.

He ran to the only place he knew he would be safe, “Trickshot! Trickshot!” The trailer door thundered open as the larger man came at his calls.

“Clint? Shouldn’t you be at Ava’s? Hey, why are you crying?”

“Ava’s dead!” Clint fell to his knees, “Barney killed her!”

“What? Dammit, I told him just to talk to you,” Trickshot muttered, kicking the door in frustration.

“What!?”

“We’re leaving. Barney and I. I want you to come with us. There are some lucrative opportunities out there for one who is willing to take them.”

“But, I don’t want to be a thief.”

“Face it, Clint, you already are one. We’ve gone out together on raids, you know what this is. You’re not naïve.”

“I thought. I thought those people-“

"Oh, come on, Clint! You really thought you were a modern day Robin Hood?"

Barney came running up behind him, “Fire is set. No one will know what killed her. We still have time-“

“No,” Clint whispered, backing toward the fiery trailer across the circus yard. Shouts were just beginning as people began to notice.

“Well, what do you say, Clint. Last chance.”

“No. No, I won’t.” He took off again, towards the shouts of the others trying to put out Ava’s trailer, the woman’s gift still clinched in one fist. He unstrapped his bow from around his shoulder where it had been resting on his back and readied an arrow, skidding to a stop to face Trickshot and his brother. 

“Come on, Clint,” Trickshot chuckled, “We all know you don’t stand a chance against me.”

Clint loosened his arrow into Barney’s thigh and Trickshot let loose with his own. The arrow pierced Clint through his left shoulder, leaving him pinned to the ash tree at his back as he howled in pain.

Trickshot approached, arrow drawn, and chuckled, “You’ve got guts, kid. But you ain’t very smart.”

The tears mixed with the rain streaming down his face, but he held eyes with his mentor defiantly. He barely flinched as the arrow slammed into the tree next to his head. “I’ll be back.”

He watched them walk away in the rain, fire lighting their path, Trickshot helping Barney walk. 

Clint watched until they were out of sight, then broke off the end of the arrow and slid himself off of the wooden shaft. He stood a moment clinching his bow in one hand, contemplating the gift that was in his other. He had scrimped and saved all of the money he had earned under Trickshot. He lowered his head and dropped it to the frozen ground. Bathed in firelight like an avenging angel, he turned and walked away from the circus, from the only life he had known for so many years, leaving the silver Star of David necklace glimmering among the tree roots.

He never looked back.

****

1991 – Age 20

“Freeze!” The voice echoed down the alley, and Clint Barton slowed to a stop, tired of running. It was the first night and he was overwhelmed with memories and he just didn’t have it in him. Not tonight.

He notched an arrow and turned to face the armed man behind him.

“Why are you chasing me!?”

“Clinton Francis Barton, I have orders to bring you in.” The man had his gun trained on the archer’s heart.

“No one’s going to ‘bring me in’.”

“Hawkeye, right?” Clint’s eyes narrowed in response. “Look, Hawkeye, the agency I work for doesn’t want to kill you. We want to recruit you.”

“Recruit me? Why?”

“You have a reputation. You never miss. We need a marksman like you. Besides, we can’t let you keep on this path you’re on. Mercenary work isn’t for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m damn good at it.”

“You’re good, but you’re attracting too much attention. How do you think we found you?”

Clint spotted a fire escape about two feet from where he stood. It did not escape the man in the suit’s attention.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Clint smirked, “Oh, it’s too late for that.” The archer twisted on the balls of his feet and managed three steps and a leap to grasp the ladder before he felt a sharp pain in his leg along with a loud report.

He fell back onto the cold concrete with a cry. “Damn it!” The man in the suit was already over him, pulling on his arm to pick him up. “Who the hell are you!?”

“Your new boss.”

“I never said yes.”

“Correction: You didn’t shoot me and I know you had at least three clear opportunities. You accepted the job before you even knew it. Agent Phillip Coulson. Pleasure to meet you.”

Clint caught a gleam in 'Agent Phillip Coulson's' gorgeous blue eyes and found himself smiling. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

****

2012 – Age 41

“Wake up, Little Hawk.” The voice in his ear was far from pleasant, “I need your help.”

A loud roar made Clint blink up at the man, his head spinning. He groaned, pulling his hands to his face, to the place the pain was radiating from. His hands were bound by iron chains, but at least they were in front of him. How stupid this man was. If only he would stop duplicating himself… He stared up at the man looking down at him. “Are you the one who put Thor in my head?”

The man scowled, “What? What is that code for!?”

Black spots danced across his vision, “Tell him to put down the hammer.”

He faded out as the man let out a frustrated cry.

****

He woke up to cold concrete under his face and more pounding in his head.

“Ah, the little hawk has decided to join us again.” The man, a general from the looks of it, turned his attention back to something Clint could not see, but could hear. A roaring. A very familiar roaring.

“Recognize your friend? We… gave him a little something.”

Two burley men pulled Clint up by his bound arms and dragged him towards what looked to be a translucent cell. Inside the room, he could see the Hulk, pacing, the nervous energy palpable even outside the cage.

“What’d you do to him?” Clint slurred out.

The man chuckled and held out a syringe. “Oh, we gave your friend a little… medicine.” He plunged the needle into the archer’s bicep, but Clint didn’t even wince. …Maybe a little bit. “Something to help with his anger issue. You see, I like it when he’s angry. Now I can prove to the world what a threat this monster is! With you inside, it’ll give us the evidence I need against Banner. He should be taken out back and shot.” The man smirked at him and nodded to his goons.

Clint was thrown into the room with what he deemed unnecessary force, landing on his bound hands.

Hulk let out a monstrous roar, leaping across the room at the door. One burley guard let out a high pitched squeal as he slammed the door shut that had Clint chuckling through the pain in his head.

A gigantic hand was suddenly pulling him up by the back of his vest, putting him back on his unsteady feet.

Clint stumbled a moment, his stomach on the edge of rebellion, “Hey, Jade Jaws.”

Before him, the Hulk looked concerned, “Cupid bleeding.”

“Am I?’

The Hulk reached forward and snapped his chains between massive fingers, “Cupid sick?”

“A little, buddy. I think I need to lie down.” His focus narrowed on a cot in the corner of the room and as he turned to sit, he caught a glance through the clear walls of the general’s infuriated face. “Who’s our host, big guy?” He asked as he gingerly lowered himself.

Hulk snarled at the man, “Ross.”

A brief flicker of terror crossed the General’s face and both of the captives laughed as he walked away.

“I’m just going to take a nap and wait for the others to find us.”

He closed his eyes for only a moment before he felt the cot begin to shake.

“Hulk, man, what the hell?” He forced his eyes open to glare at his friend.

“Cupid no sleep. Head hurt. Cupid tell Hulk story instead.”

Clint sighed dramatically, but gave in when the other man threw himself cross-legged on the floor, excitement and expectation written all over him. “Alright. How can I say no to that face? What do you want to hear a story about? Ooh! I could tell you about-!”

“Hulk want happy stories.”

“Happy stories, huh? Well, Jade Jaws, I’m afraid I don’t have many of those.” The archer pushed himself up on the cot to lean against the cool wall.

“Hulk want Christmas stories?”

“That’s right, Christmas is coming up.” Clint laughed, “I have even less of those, buddy. But I do have a few Hanukkah stories.”

“Hulkanah?”

“I knew you’d go for it.”

****

He woke up slowly, the scent of ammonia permeating his senses. His left hand felt warm and heavy, and he slowly opened his eyes and turned to look, trying to ignore the weight of his head.

“Hey,” he croaked as he saw Bruce next to him.

“Hey! You’re awake. I was worried. Ross gave you something and then the other guy kept making you tell stories and-“

“It was fun,” he croaked out. He could see Bruce was feeling guilty.

“What?” The scientist looked surprised as he reached for a cup of ice chips to feed the archer.

Clint swallowed some down and then replied, “I never told anyone all of that before. Not even Nat.”

Bruce brightened and straightened in his chair, “Really?”

Clint nodded and swallowed more ice chips as Bruce seemed to be stuck in thought.

“Hey, you know how you told me,” he paused, shook his head, “the other guy… about Ava?”

The archer nodded, a bit wary.

“Well, I… I hope you’re not mad… I looked her up. I thought maybe… Well, I mean, I know you miss Phil and Hanukkah’s not over yet and I didn’t really get you anything, so I was thinking… I’m up for a trip if you are.”

Clint said nothing, only grasped Bruce’s hand tightly in his own.

****

It was cold. Windy and snowing on the hibernating corn fields as they made their way to the small gravesite in Boone, Iowa, not far from Des Moines.

Clint knelt down next to the small gravestone, tracing the words gently with his fingers, “Hello, savta. It’s been a while.” He heard Bruce plop gently down on the cold ground behind him and smiled, “Bruce, do you know the story of Hanukkah?”

“I know the basis. But I admit, I don’t know all of it.”

Clint smiled as he lit a small brass Menorah and placed it on the grave stone.

“You see, long ago there was a king…”


End file.
